


Just a Day

by ani_bester



Category: Captain America (2011), Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ani_bester/pseuds/ani_bester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple day in Steve and Bucky's life before anyone was in the military.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Day

Bucky carried two small bowls over to where Steve sat on the hard floor of their shared apartment. Steve leaned against the wall, attention set on the drawing tablet in front of him.

As Bucky came over, Steve glanced up from his drawing pad and grinned.

"I set the table," he said, holding up the pad of paper. He showed off a sketch of a fine dining table, the kind he and Bucky had glimpsed through the windows of expensive restaurants. The table had been set for two, with crystal dishware and even wine glasses.

Bucky set the hot bowls on the floors and inspected Steve's drawing with a critical eye. He made an exclamation of dismay and snatched it from Steve's hand. Looking at Steve with mock anger, he hit it with the back of his hand and turned to look at Steve, wrinkling his nose.

"What, no salad forks?" he protested. "Steve, how many times have a told you I can't eat salad with a fork meant for the main dish. What sort of hoodlum do you take me for?"

Steve snatched the pad back. "The picky kind apparently!" He looked over the image then shook his head. "Sorry, pal, it's no good. There's not a spot for 'em left."

Bucky sniffed. "I'll make do then. Also, I must protest this dreadful black and white color scheme. It's so dreary."

"I'll keep that in mind when I pick out our springtime table set." Steve said, grinning up at Bucky.

Bucky smiled back and handed Steve the small bowl of corn meal mush. Steve set the paper and pencil away and took the bowl from Bucky's hands. He watched Bucky -who was already shoveling some of the salty yellow meal into his mouth- and then sloshed his spoon around and took a bite.

"Why Bucky," Steve exclaimed. "You mad culinary genies, what have you done to this meal? It tastes different than your usual."

Bucky pantomimed looking as excited as he'd seen some of the girls doe in movies. "Oh you noticed!" he gushed. "I added about two cups more boiled water to it. I found that it makes more that way."

Steve spluttered and tried not to choke as he laughed.

Bucky just grinned as he took the bowel from Steve's hands so he didn't spill it while he laughed. After a few more snickers, Steve managed to get a hold of himself and took the bowel back.

"What is with this mush though, Bucky? Didn't we have enough for more food than this?"

"Oh well, uhh," Bucky turned red and pulled at the collar of his shirt. "I can explain, but you- aw hell I know you'll be sore at first, but you had to have 'em."

"Have what?" Steve asked. Bucky didn't answer; instead, he got up and went over to the small bag he'd set on the only chair in his and Steve's apartment. "I made a kind of investment you could say."

Steve's gaze followed Bucky curiously as Bucky pulled out paint and raw canvas from his bag. Setting the bowl of mush aside, Steve scrambled to his feet. "Bucky," he shouted, "aw no, Bucky I told you the old pencils were fine!"

Bucky grinned and held the paints and canvas out to Steve. "So I didn't get new pencils." Steve glared at Bucky and Bucky just rolled his eyes. "I knew you'd be sore. You always get sore when people are nice to you."

Steve tried to keep his expression firm, but he couldn't keep his eyes gaze from going to the canvas and paint every now again.

"We can't eat those, Buck," Steve finally said, even as he reached out and touched one of the paint tubes.

"Well no, not directly, but when you sold that rich muckity muck that portrait, we ate well the whole damn month Steve."

Steve's lips tightened and he shook his heads. "I shouldn't have you know who that man was."

Bucky shook his head and pressed the paints into Steve's hands. "It was honest work you did Steve, it not like you did a job for the mob. You just painted that guys face, and did a darn good job of it too. And he paid us fairly from the prices I've seen at art shops!"

"With money his goons probably took from the baker on the corner, as well as who knows who else, Bucky. By rights we should have given the money back to half the city, I'm sure."

Steve would have kept going but he saw Bucky's expression shift from excitement to something harder. Steve clutched the paints to his chest and smiled up at Bucky. "I'll find someone to sell portraits to and we'll have good food for a month again," he said softly. "And if we don't then, well I'll – I'll have to paint you I suppose. You in those workpants seem to sell well."

Bucky's face softened into a grin again. "So no portraits for mobsters, but you'll hustle your best friend," Bucky teased.

Steve's face went bright red. "That's not- I mean I don't – I mean I," Steve spluttered and looked up at Bucky with huge blue eyes.

Still chuckling, Bucky leaned down and kissed Steve quickly on the lips. Steve smiled and turned a little redder. "Thank you," he whispered.

Bucky smiled and nodded, "No Problem," Bucky watched as Steve sat back down and picked up the bowl of corn meal again.

"By the way," Bucky said as he sat back down next to Steve, "Those were your birthday and Christmas presents for the next year or two."

Steve nodded happily. "Wouldn't have it any other way."


End file.
